His voice was husky as he asked the question, his fingers closing more firmly into her flesh.

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When she opened her eyes, it was bright. Daylight streamed through the windows of her bedroom in Grayson Manor, and she gasped and pushed herself up, finding that she was sitting in her own bed.

Looking around her, she blinked, trying to take it all in. With a furrowed brow, she tried to think back and remember. It couldn’t have been a dream. Could it? she wondered. She had left her home. She had driven to his. She had explored it all. He had found her in his bedroom. He had kissed her, taken her to his bed and done things with her body, giving her so much pleasure that she never could have imagined it. She never could have dreamt it. But there she was, sleeping in her own bed in her own room, alone.

She turned her head to look around felt a slight twinge in one place on her neck. Reaching her fingers to her neck, she felt a small bump. Not far from it was another bump. Rising from her bed, she went to the bathroom and craned her head to look at her reflection in the mirror. There were two puncture marks a short distance from each other that had scabbed over slightly on the side of her neck. She went back to the bed and looked at the pillow and sheets, but found no blood.

It must have been some weird English bug or spider, she told herself, and sat back down on the bed looking out of the window. It felt to her like she was living in some strange dream, and she couldn’t figure out what was real, and what wasn’t.

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